


Stay Present

by Zee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Farmer Ushijima, M/M, Pygmy goats, Romantic Comedy, Yoga Instructor Oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: When the studio had announced that they were trying out “goat yoga,” a new Western thing that was apparently growing in popularity, Oikawa had agreed to teach the class because he thought the idea was stupid but hilarious and something he wanted to see in person. But the pygmy goats weren’t even that cute, and neither was the farmhand tasked with assisting Oikawa with this trainwreck.





	Stay Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bokuut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuut/gifts).



> Written as a commission for Jess, who always has such great taste in rom com tropes for ushioi. I hope you like it my friend <3

Oikawa was in a terrible mood. He had volunteered to be here, but he was less pleased with the situation in practice than in theory. When the studio had announced that they were trying out “goat yoga,” a new Western thing that was apparently growing in popularity, Oikawa had agreed to teach the class because he thought the idea was stupid but hilarious and something he wanted to see in person. Plus taking an extra class on his schedule this week meant extra cash, and he’d been told there would be journalists here to do a puff piece for a local lifestyle magazine. If anyone from the studio was going to have their face in the paper, it ought to be him.

But the farm was much further from the city than he’d realized, and his phone battery had died on the way, and the radio stations all the way out here were all terrible. He didn’t think he’d had too much to drink last night, yet he felt vaguely hungover this morning, not in ideal shape for teaching an outdoor class. And the farm itself was humid and smelly and seemed to be an actual, large-scale agricultural operation, rather than just an aesthetic country hipster shack with cute goats and maybe some chickens, like Oikawa had expected.

The pygmy goats weren’t even that cute, and neither was the farmhand tasked with assisting Oikawa with this trainwreck. He was currently staring passively at Oikawa while long seconds ticked by, like he thought that if he waited long enough Oikawa would walk back at least some of the rude comments he’d already made during the start of his tour.

Well, he could keep waiting. Oikawa had said what he’d said. He needed to do something about the start of this headache before any of his students arrived. “I think I can wait to see the rest of this place. If you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for my class, if your animals will let me.” 

As he stalked away back towards his parked car, he heard Ushijima comment to the other farmhand, “I thought yogis were supposed to be calm.”

***

Oikawa hadn't intended to make a career out of it when he'd started practicing yoga. It had been suggested as something for him to try during those first difficult months after the injury that had killed his volleyball career. Then it turned out that yoga agreed with him, and without volleyball he'd been desperate for something to throw himself into.

Iwaizumi had yelled at him for going too hard, insisting that he was just going to hurt himself again. Some of his doctors had agreed. And Oikawa knew that the point of yoga was not to work yourself to the bone to become the best, but he only knew one way to do anything. And when his classmates were too new-agey to realize he was competing to be better than them, he competed against himself.

His driven attitude led him to get his teaching certificate, and then somehow yoga became his full-time profession. Oikawa supposed it could be worse. ‘Yoga teacher’ was not a title that came with prestige per se, but he was working for a studio with one of the best reputations in the city, which meant he was paid well enough and respected within his sometimes-odd little community and occasionally at retreats or workshops he even ran into people who had heard of him. He was thinking about starting a YouTube channel.

It wasn’t volleyball, and Oikawa’s temperament didn’t match that of most of his coworkers. No one would ever accuse him of having any kind of grasp on serenity or even mindfulness. But he was good at it, he looked great in yoga pants, and it came in handy as a fact about himself to drop when men chatted him up at clubs.

Oikawa reached his car and popped an Aspirin, then went to retrieve his mats, towels and the registration materials for his class. He wondered if that farmhand, Ushijima, went to the same clubs. He lived in the middle of nowhere and looked like his idea of a good time involved taking an extra tractor ride through the soy fields, so probably not. 

No doubt he’d made some local rural family deliriously happy by giving their daughter a traditional wedding. He probably had kids already, toddlers that ran around feeding the goats on days when a yoga class wasn’t hosted on the property.

Ushijima was walking amiably up to Oikawa’s car in his dusty black t-shirt. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

“That would be nice, since your parking area is a mile away from where I need to have class.” Oikawa sniffed and dumped the yoga mats he’d been holding into Ushijima’s arms. He had a few extra, just in case anyone came who needed to rent one. Ushijima accepted them without complaint, his bulky biceps flexing ever-so-slightly. 

Oikawa had to admit he had a nice body. Oikawa saw plenty of fit scantily-clad men throughout his normal work week, but most yoga practitioners were not built with shoulders quite like that. 

He was probably super inflexible to make up for it. Oikawa poked him in the bit of his flat belly that wasn’t obscured by yoga mats. “What sport do you do, big guy? Don’t tell me this is just from taking care of goats.”

Ushijima raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking about my body?”

Oikawa let his trunk bang shut, slinging his yoga bag over his shoulder. “I’m a teacher, it’s my job to be interested in these things.” 

“I see.” 

“I'm sure you wouldn't understand,” Oikawa said as they walked back towards the goat enclosures. Some of the goats looked big and cranky, but he'd been promised that only the small sweet ones would be with them during the class. 

“All these animals are going to be so distracting, and no one will learn anything,” Oikawa said. He’d mostly just been grumbling to himself, but Ushijima made a little huffing sound in response. 

“You can't know that for certain,” Ushijima said. “Perhaps the chance to be out in nature will help your students get more out of the class.”

“They get plenty out of my classes regardless,” Oikawa snapped, turning away from the annoyed look that would surely be on Ushijima’s face in response to someone interpreting his every word in the worst way possible. Sometimes when Oikawa self-reflected-- which did occasionally happen, it was hard to avoid with all those savasanas--he had to admit that he didn't know the reasons behind his occasional mean streak. Maybe quitting volleyball had permanently soured him in some irreconcilable way. Here he was, on a bright spring morning at a farm he'd volunteered to come to, biting the head off an attractive young man who was only trying to assist him.

“I’m sure you are a very good teacher,” Ushijima said. His voice was really quite deep. His deep voice, his height and his muscles, and on top of all that he was a farmer--no one needed that much masculinity. Oikawa forgot his momentary feelings of regret over his bad attitude and rolled his eyes, preparing to scoff, when Ushijima continued, “I am looking forward to taking your class.”

“Wait, what?” Oikawa felt something internal screech to a halt, and when he looked at Ushijima with wide eyes Ushijima just looked back, his face as placid as when Oikawa had first arrived. He didn’t look like he was joking. Before Oikawa could ask for clarification, they heard the chatter of people heading their way. His students had begun to arrive.

Oikawa took refuge in his cheerful teacher persona, checking people in and having them sign their disclaimer forms and explaining to each new person that yes, their class today would be in the goat pen, and yes, these pygmy goats were used to humans, and yes, goats would probably get up in their faces in the middle of the sun salutations. 

Oikawa had his elevator speech down pat when they asked him what the point of all this was supposed to be. “It’s just for fun,” he said smoothly, a smile in place that represented the studio well. “An opportunity for us all to take ourselves less seriously, to focus less on perfection and more on being in the moment. Because, you know--” and here he always gave a wink to whoever it was asking, “--I think you’ll find it’s pretty difficult to stress about how correct your pose is when a goat is nuzzling your face.”

Oikawa privately thought that goat yoga was a silly gimmick, one the studio couldn’t pass up because their rich clientele loved nothing more than gimmicky trends. 

“I’m glad you’ve come around and realize how helpful the goats can be,” Ushijima said as the last student went to put their mat down in the goat pen. “Their calming presence enriches so many hobbies and tasks.”

Oikawa gave Ushijima a sidelong once-over. He could not, for the life of him, tell whether Ushijima was being serious or if he just had a very deadpan sense of humor. “Next you’ll be telling me what excellent students they are.”

“All goats are quite intelligent for ungulates, but yes, a pygmy goat in particular would be a quick study.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and okay, yes, he was definitely joking. Oikawa’s smirk turned to a grin, which he tried to keep in check without much success.

“Oh, really! Then I expect to see one of your goat children model a correct half moon pose for us at the end of class. Have you named them? Of course you’ve named them, tell me which one is most flexible so we can let him know his responsibility.” 

“That would probably be Taiki--”

Before Oikawa could ascertain whether Ushijima was still fucking with him or if he really had opinions on the relative flexibility of each of his pygmy goats, they were interrupted by one of the students squealing. A goat had started to eat her towel, and she seemed more surprised and angry but Ushijima still ran over to mediate. 

Oikawa was all set up and just about ready to start the class (seven minutes late, which he never would have allowed in the studio) when Ushijima came to his side again. He had changed from his work clothes into a pair of track pants, and he’d removed his shirt. Oikawa nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Can I use one of your mats?”

“Uh, I don’t know if you’d enjoy this level of yoga, it’s kind of advanced,” Oikawa lied. 

“I’m sure I can handle it. I stay fit, as you already pointed out.”

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” Oikawa looked away, shoving a rolled-up yoga mat at Ushijima’s bare chest. He hoped that his cheeks weren’t red, but he had a feeling his body was betraying him. 

The thing was, Oikawa had a rule that he never checked out his students. Those boundaries he always kept strictly professional. 

Not that he wanted to get unprofessional with Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

“Are you always so impolite with new students?” 

Ushijima didn’t sound offended, just curious, and Oikawa grit his teeth. There was no lying to himself now that his face wasn’t red. There must be something in the country air that made him so deeply un-smooth. 

“You know, I’m really not. I blame it on the goats. They’d better pay attention well to make up for it” Oikawa gave Ushijima a plasticy smile and sauntered off to the front of the goat pen to teach. Before he turned away, he caught Ushijima’s raised eyebrow and a slight lift to his somber mouth, as if he was more fond than offended.

***

The class turned out to be a mixed bag. Objectively Oikawa considered it quite successful--they had a great turnout, his students enjoyed themselves and afterward were full of effusive praise for Oikawa, the goats, the farm and pretty much everything. One of the goats pooped on someone’s yoga mat, but the mat’s owner seemed to find this hilarious rather than disgusting. And the lifestyle magazine reporter took many pictures of Oikawa and attentively scribbled down everything he said, so that was all right too. 

But there were negative aspects. Usually Oikawa didn’t dislike anything about teaching--it combined so many things he was good at and enjoyed, like getting attention and being graceful and helping people. He generally felt more relaxed after finishing a class than he did before. 

Today, however, he didn’t feel relaxed or in his element. Instead he felt like he might be getting a crick in his neck from not looking at Ushijima more than he had to in order to ensure that someone brand new to yoga wasn’t going to hurt themselves.

The goats loved Ushijima, of course, which made him even more distracting. When he pushed up into downward dog, the smallest goat fit itself in the triangle of space under Ushijima’s body and bleated. Everyone murmured and laughed, and Ushijima’s face was pointed at the ground but Oikawa could see his shoulders shaking in laughter.

Oikawa had been absolutely right: everything about this farm was a horrible distraction.

After the class ended and the students were milling about petting and feeding the goats, some of them getting ready to leave, Ushijima approached Oikawa. He had a grass stain smeared across his shoulder--the mat he’d borrowed from Oikawa had been laughably short for a body his size, and Oikawa had seen that at several points he’d just finished a pose on the grass rather than adjusting--and a twig in his hair. His face was red and sweaty, and they both smelled like goat.

“Thank you for letting me take your class, Oikawa-san. You are an excellent teacher and I could not have asked for a better introduction to yoga.”

Oikawa was torn between laughing and burying his face in his hands. It was just a lot: the praise, the formality, the brightness in Ushijima’s eyes when he looked at Oikawa. 

“I’m even better when there are no goats eating my toes. You should come by the studio sometime to see.” Oikawa shut his mouth before he further betrayed himself and clutched his mat and towel to his chest, an instinct of self-preservation.

“I rarely go into the city,” Ushijima said. Oikawa waited but that seemed to be his entire response.

“Fine,” Oikawa said, the flustered feeling in his chest giving way to something more sour. He held out his hand. “The mat please? And the rental price is 500 yen.”

Ushijima did not comment on the silliness of charging him to rent a yoga mat when the farm had given his studio a hefty discount on renting the space for today. He just nodded, giving Oikawa the mat back. “I will get my wallet from inside the house. You should teach a class here again. I think a continued partnership with the farm could benefit us both.”

He turned and left to fetch his wallet before Oikawa had a chance to react. Which was probably for the best, because Oikawa’s face had gone red again, indignant at Ushijima suggesting that Oikawa take the class to him again, because he ‘rarely went into the city.’

The nerve. Oikawa left without collecting the 500 yen.

***

Oikawa didn’t want to give Ushijima another thought. But then he somehow, mostly on accident, convinced the studio to make goat yoga a regular part of their class schedule. And he’d found himself volunteering, again, to be the teacher. Every other week. Weekly if the class turned out to be popular enough. 

“I’ll have to find you a goat plushie for your birthday,” Iwaizumi said. “Since you like them so much now.”

Iwaizumi was being a dick. But Oikawa didn’t have any other explanation for why he now wanted to be the goat yoga guy.

Ushijima was always working at the farm, but he didn’t always take Oikawa’s class. Sometimes he excused himself because he had other duties to take care of, and one of the other farmhands hung around the goat pen to make sure everything went smoothly. But on those days Ushijima still returned to the main house in time to talk with Oikawa a little after class and say goodbye. 

Perhaps Oikawa lingered sometimes, giving time for Ushijima to arrive back from the fields so they could chat. But no one could prove that.

Oikawa never managed to break the impulse to be a little rude to Ushijima, a little mean. Partly because Ushijima really could be a bit self-centered and stoic sometimes and it pissed Oikawa off. And partly because he liked the way Ushijima reacted, the little wrinkle in his brow that appeared when he disapproved or was confused. And partly because, after several months of seeing Ushijima every other week, he suspected that Ushijima liked it when he was a little mean.

Turned out that it was just Oikawa’s flawless instincts for gleaning what people truly wanted from him, that made him act so rude on that first day. 

But sometimes Oikawa lost his temper, and went too far. Like the time when he was giving Ushijima pointers on his warrior 2 pose, and mentioned casually that Ushijima should come by the studio for more regular classes if he wanted to see real improvement, because just doing this every other week probably wasn’t enough.

If Oikawa had been thinking, he wouldn’t have put himself out there like that, because asking again when Ushijima had already turned him down once was humiliating. But he’d been distracted by the goat bumping its nose against Ushijima’s ass, and the way Ushijima’s pectorals stretched and made his chest seem even broader, and words had just tumbled out of his mouth without his say-so.

“No thank you,” Ushijima said, standing up out of the posture. “I don’t go into the city much and I don’t feel motivated to practice yoga regularly. I just take these classes to spend time with you.”

“Well maybe you should be more open to making the slightest of sacrifices and going all of 30 minutes away to try for something good instead of wasting away on this stupid farm, always expecting the world to come to you,” Oikawa snapped. Then the rest of Ushijima’s statement caught up with him. “And if you want to spend time with me, you could try _going to the city_ and taking me out for a drink sometime, idiot. I’m the one coming all the way out here twice a month, you could reciprocate you know!”

Oikawa huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He was mortified with himself for more-or-less asking Ushijima out on total accident in the middle of trying to reprimand him, but he refused to show it. 

“Please don’t call the farm stupid,” Ushijima said, with that crease in his brow again. 

“But I can call you an idiot all I want?”

“I would prefer it if you didn’t.” Ushijima turned to collect the bags of carrots that had been left at the edge of the pen by Oikawa’s students, once they’d gotten bored with feeding the goats. Everyone else had left by now, the class had ended thirty minutes ago. Ushijima slung the bags over his shoulder and turned back to Oikawa, looking so rustic and handsome that Oikawa was disgusted. 

“I wouldn’t mind going into the city if it was to meet you for a drink. Although I don’t really drink much. If we drank to excess, I would need someplace to stay for the night instead of driving back here.”

Oikawa swallowed. There was a lot to unpack in what Ushijima had just said, starting with him needing to spend the night in someone else’s bed--well, or in a hotel, whatever--if he got drunk in the city. But to be difficult, he went with, “Oh, you ‘wouldn’t mind’?”

Ushijima bowed his head, and Oikawa thought his cheeks might be a bit pinker. “I would be happy to.”

Oikawa’s chest felt funny, kind of constricted like he’d forgotten to breathe. Forgotten because every one of his brain cells was busy wondering if this was finally happening; if his hilariously serious and frustratingly attractive business acquaintance/sometimes-student/local-pygmy-goat-expert was going to make the move that Oikawa had not yet admitted he wanted.

He’d crossed the goat pen and stopped right in front of Ushijima’s face. “That’s what I’m saying. A little reciprocity, for all my efforts.”

“Your efforts towards what?” 

And before Oikawa could despair that Ushijima didn’t understand any damn thing, Ushijima reached for him, cupping the side of Oikawa’s neck in an oddly careful, slight way. His eyes were intent and warm, as so often were when he looked at Oikawa. His smile was unsure, but Oikawa could not keep the grin off his own face. 

“Towards teaching yoga to your goats, obviously,” Oikawa said, and closed his eyes when Ushijima leaned forward to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Goat yoga is a real thing, although I do not know whether or not it is a thing in Japan. Goats pooping on your yoga mat during class is a real risk, also. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
